


Heartbeat

by notvelma



Series: Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, Hank doesn’t think he can handle everything that comes with being a cop. on those days, Tommy takes care of him.</p><p>Companion piece to Thundershowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Technically Tommy ends up in jail at the end of Thundershowers, but this is sort of something else that either happens in between or after Tommy gets out, I don't know. But I can't stop working with these two...

When Hank gets home, he has no idea what time it is, but he’s exhausted and at the same time he knows he won’t be able to fall asleep for a while. After what he’s seen tonight, Hank doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to sleep again. He’s been a police officer for almost ten years, and has had to take care of a lot – car accidents, domestic disputes, robberies gone wrong… but tonight was too much.

Even though he’s washed the blood off his hands, Hank can still feel it, can see the face of that boy as the life drained from his body, before the ambulance could arrive. He never wants to see a kid that young die from a gunshot wound – or any wound, really – ever again. That image is going to haunt Hank forever as the life he could not save.

Once he’s in the house, Hank strips out of his clothes and heads for the shower, hoping that the hot water will ease the tension in his body. It doesn’t help him feel any cleaner, though; the sense-memory of the blood and grime still remains. After the shower, he goes to the kitchen to start the coffee maker and sits down at the kitchen table while he waits for it to brew, trying to find a way to gather his thoughts so he can move past this – he’s a cop, dammit. He should know how to deal with these sorts of situations.

“Hank?” The groggy voice is Tommy’s, and Hank looks up to see his older brother standing in the doorway to the kitchen, dressed in only a pair of grey sweatpants. “Did you just get home? I heard the shower and I thought you’d be coming to bed,” he says. But he must see the look in Hank’s eyes, because he wastes no time in pulling up the chair next to Hank’s and putting an arm around his shoulder. “You okay? Did something happen at work?”

Nodding, Hank says, “I don’t think I can talk about it.” He puts his hands flat on the table to try to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t help. All he can see is the fucking blood. “Jesus, Tommy, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Tommy puts his hand on top of Hank’s, curling their fingers together. “Come to bed,” he says, his voice low in Hank’s ear. It’s different, the way he says it – not the horny pleading Hank is used to, but more of a gentle insistence. He brushes his thumb over Hank’s knuckles and the intimacy of the moment ignites the blood in his veins.

Leaning over, Hank presses his mouth to Tommy’s, hungry and desperate to feel alive, to know that he hasn’t been completely lost.

One touch is all it takes, and Hank nearly crawls into Tommy’s lap, wrapping himself around the larger man so he can get as much skin to skin contact as he can. He needs it. “Please,” he says, breaking off the kiss to look into Tommy’s eyes. “Take me to bed so I can forget all of this bullshit. I need –”

His breath catches in his throat and he realizes the fear in his chest at admitting this to his brother, at what could happen when he says those words out loud. Sex is one thing, and he knows even that is wrong, but at least it’s just physical. But this? It makes his chest throb painfully with its intensity. He swallows. “I need you to sort me out, Tommy, please.”

And Tommy seems to know what he means. There’s no teasing in his voice when he says, “I’ll take care of you, Hank. I’m your big brother, and it’s my job, ain’t it?” He huffs a laugh and adds, “Guess Dad probably didn’t intend this when he told me to watch out for you, huh?” He cups Hank’s cheek, gives him a gentle smile. “But we do okay, huh? I take care of you, and you watch out for me. That ain’t so bad.” It’s probably the most profound thing ever to come out of Tommy’s mouth and it makes Hank feel like he’s going to cry. When did Tommy become a poet?

Though the coffee is still percolating in the machine, Hank ignores it in favor of following Tommy down the hall to his bedroom. He lets Tommy peel him out of his clothes, lets Tommy’s fingertips brush over every inch of his bare skin, remind him that he’s still there.

There’s a bit of a sting when Tommy first enters him, but even that is a welcome kind of pain. And when Hank feels the orgasm build up, he looks up into Tommy’s eyes and he knows that he’s going to be okay. With Tommy here to take care of him, he’ll make it through this.

Even though he doesn’t sleep that night, Hank clings to Tommy’s sleeping frame, letting the steady heartbeat be a reminder that not everything in the world is dead. Life goes on, at least for a little while, and that’s enough for him.


End file.
